


(don't) call me baby

by forsekais



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Based on a Taylor Swift Song, Friends With Benefits, M/M, this album just ruins me in ways i've never imagined
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-05
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:08:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25711120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forsekais/pseuds/forsekais
Summary: It's intended to be a firecracker in their mundane and rather boring lives. Never would they have thought, it would become a supernova.
Relationships: Kim Jongin | Kai/Oh Sehun
Comments: 19
Kudos: 767





	(don't) call me baby

**Author's Note:**

> for pi ♡
> 
> song fic, based off "illicit affairs" in #folklore. the whole album is hauntingly beautiful, i'd recommend in less than a heartbeat.

**i. hood over your head, keep your eyes down**

"Text me when you get home," Jongin runs his fingers down Sehun's cheek in a soft caress. "Same time on Tuesday?"

Sehun closes his eyes and relishes in the momentary warmth of Jongin's skin against his. "Yeah." He nods. "See you then."

Jongin steps back, leaning against the wall — a display of the life Sehun could never relate to, with framed pictures of Jongin at fashion shows, awards ceremony, lavish high-society parties — and watches Sehun put on his shoes. His eyes are guarded, his posture is perfect, even when he's just standing there in a pair of sweatpants, smelling like Sehun's cheap perfume. Jongin surely lives up to his status as one of the world's highest-paid supermodels, as Gucci's Golden Boy, and sometimes Sehun doesn't know how he should feel about this fact.

Sehun isn't supposed to feel anything. Emotions are off limits. Intimacy beyond the bedroom, or any surface that they have sex on, is irrelevant.

"Be careful," Jongin says, voice too quiet that Sehun almost doesn't hear it. He wishes he didn't hear it, but he's always been extra attentive when it comes to Jongin.

Pulling up his hood, Sehun walks out of the back door. His head down, a mask over his face to hide his identity in case anyone looks out of their bedroom window. The chance is low, since Jongin's neighbors are people similar to him — celebrities and chaebols who prioritize privacy since they have secrets of their own, and rarely wake up during early hours in the morning. That’s the good thing about this neighborhood. They mind their own business.

Sehun gets away most of the time, no one really knows about the existence of the guy leaving Jongin's condo in a hurry when the sun has yet to rise, always wearing a hoodie regardless of the weather. He had only been caught once, and it was by Jongin's manager. Sehun had prepared an entire story in his head to explain, but to his surprise, Jongin's manager only glanced at him. No one said a word, then the manager walked away.

Later, when Sehun was taking a shower in his own apartment, he realized why Jongin's manager didn't question him. Sehun was harmless as a fly, he couldn't pose any threat to Jongin's career — he was neither a fellow celebrity nor an influential figure. He was just an ordinary guy with an ordinary 9-to-5 office job, who had no tie to Jongin's world.

Maybe it was how Jongin chose him in the first place.

It started out simple enough, two old friends met again at a wedding of their high school friend. It was meant to be a one time thing, one that happened after too many soju shots. Sehun didn't remember much, limbs tangled in silk sheets, muscles tightened up and breathing accelerated. When he woke up, he was alone on a king-sized bed, in a luxurious suite with a magnificient view of the city. There was Aspirin on the bedside table, along with a note saying that all bills had been paid, breakfast and car service included, then a phone number at the end.

It should have stopped right there, but then a few days after that, Sehun was so fed up with work that he found himself calling the number at midnight. Jongin picked up by the second ring, and within an hour, Sehun walked into a deluxe room at a five-star hotel in Hongdae. They were both sober this time, but it didn't stop Sehun from feeling like he was on cloud nine when Jongin turned his head and kissed him deeply, thrusting his tongue deep down his throat.

"I don't want any relationship," Jongin mumbled into the pale skin beneath him.

"Me too," Sehun nodded, almost too quickly as he lifted his hips off the bed and rocked to the rhythm of Jongin's fingers inside him. "For tonight, shut up and fuck me already."

Jongin's smirk was menacing. "All yours, baby," he said, pulling his boxers off as their lips still locked together passionately.

**ii. clandestine meetings and longing stares**

It becomes a routine. Every Tuesday and Saturday in a hotel suite Jongin'd booked, no words, just skin against skin for purely unadulterated pleasure. It used to be thrilling at first, chasing the high from clandestine meetings behind closed doors like a teenage romance story, sneaking out without people noticing, drowning in lust and impulsivity. Sehun tells himself he can always stop, if there ever comes a time when he starts to feel something he shouldn't. Just cut off all ties and go back to his normal life. He wouldn't have to worry about Jongin, who would never beg him to stay. Jongin loves his career too much to risk it — he'd sacrified so many things to get to where he is today. In fact, he loves his job to the point there is no place in his heart for anything, or anyone else.

Sehun isn't blind. He knows how the entertainment industry works. It's a big, scary thing in which ruined lives are glorified. A place where the line between personal and professional life becomes blur, then at one point every decision you make is a critical move on the chessboard. The artistic soul is introverted, with a constant desire to feel needed, wanted, and _adored_. Jongin shines best when he's on stage, enveloped in the rich, rosy, and splendid natural light known as the golden hour. Jongin has spent years bringing Kim Kai to life, and he's going to do anything to keep him alive, for the longest time possible.

"It's part of a plan," Jongin says. He grabs a magazine from the couch and gives it to Sehun. "Her father is a billionaire and her uncle is a very powerful politician. Or so I heard."

Sehun lazily pushes the glossy pages around, legs still wrapped around Jongin's bare thighs. There's a picture of Jongin at a private golf course, standing next to a brunette. They look close. Intimate.

"Well," Sehun says, ignoring the dull sensation thrumming rapidly under his skin. "Do you know how to play golf, though?"

Jongin stares up at the ceiling. "No," he admits. "But it doesn't matter."

Sehun can imagine it — waking up one day to the news of Jongin dating someone as equally famous and influential as himself. Jongin is right. It doesn't matter whether he knows how to play golf or not. It doesn't matter that the relationship, or eventually, marriage, is nothing but a fabrication for both sides. It doesn't matter, because at the end of the day, Sehun and Jongin could never be anything more than a shame ridden and guilt driven relationship.

"You don't have to tell me." Sehun shrugs. He has come down from the ectasy when Jongin slams into him earlier with ferocity, with hushed whispers of _I want you_ and _I need you_ and _Only you, only you, Sehun-ah_ that only come out of Jongin's mouth in the heat of the moment. In the silence of his tiny apartment, he remembers the bottle of perfume on his bookshelf, the one he'd bought because he thought Jongin'd like it. He only uses it when he meets with Jongin, so when he leaves their rendezvous as if he'd never been there, he hopes Jongin fall asleep safe and sound to that specific scent on wrinkled sheets, a reminder that Sehun is real, that Sehun exists, even if his emotions are long gone.

"I just thought you want to know," Jongin states, matter-of-factly, in that calm, collected voice of his, the one that narrates million dollars worth of high-end product advertisements, the one that makes Sehun wonder why he voluntarily steps into this idiotic mess, pretending to be someone else, pretending that he doesn't care when it's ripping him open from the inside.

They are drawn to each other like a moth to a flame. Two days a week aren't enough, and soon they let their desperation take control. They take turns knocking on each other's apartment door, or going to empty parking lots, where Jongin escapes from the after party of whatever grandiose fashion show or event he's attending. They yearn, they touch, they fuck in the backseat of Jongin's manager's van. Sometimes they stop at the convenience store near Sehun's place to buy lube and condoms, and never make it home, just make a turn into a dark valley behind the store and get lost in the pleasure for a while.

Sehun knows he shouldn't keep his hopes up. He knows happy ending is impossible. He feels like a ghost, not being able to leave any trace behind, but then Jongin looks at him with those sweet honey eyes and all of a sudden Sehun is the only person alive in the apocalypse when the world around him is in ruins.

The worst part, the part the burns so hard it leaves scars, is how they both know that this untitled thing between them has become more than either expected. It's not just about seeking pleasure. Jongin stops telling Sehun to leave. When Sehun opens his eyes in the morning, Jongin is holding him close against his chest. Sehun cancels plans with his friends despite knowing Jongin is booked for the entire day, just in case Jongin calls him at the last minute. Jongin stocks up Sehun's favorite soap bar in his bathroom cabinet. Sehun comes to see Jongin with a paper box of chicken drumsticks, just enough to satisfy Jongin's random junk food craving.

They don't talk about it, so they let their overwhelming frustration out through burning touches and searing kisses.

An illicit affair, as Sehun figures out, is dangerous. And irresistible.

It's intended to be a firecracker in their mundane and rather boring lives. Never would they have thought, it would become a supernova.

**iii. take the words for what they are**

"I went out for a run."

Kyungsoo sets down a cup of tea in front of Sehun. "You're a very bad liar, you know that?"

It's not his fault that Kyungsoo is veracious. Every time he returns home from his secret meeting with Jongin, he wishes he doesn't run into Kyungsoo, but it's inevitable since Kyungsoo is the boyfriend of his neighbors, Chanyeol and Baekhyun. Kyungsoo never pushes for the truth, he looks at Sehun's messy hair and flushed skin with something akin to pity and offers to brew him a cup of tea, or coffee, or a slice of crispy butter toast.

Sehun changes the topic, like he always does. "No coffee today?"

"I've stopped drinking coffee a while ago. I only make it for Chanyeol and Baekhyun." Kyungsoo says. "Even a drug can only work for the first few hundred times. It's better for my own good to not get addicted."

Kyungsoo isn't talking about coffee. Sehun hides a sigh behind the porcelain cup.

"You're a good kid, Sehun," Kyungsoo cracks open an egg. The bright ball of light filters casts squares onto the glossy marble countertop. Sehun blinks a few times in an attempt to adjust his eyes to the illumination. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wonders if Jongin is up. Would he remember the way they hold each other as he suits up for his morning schedule? Would he think about how tight and hopeless Sehun is, clenching around him like clutching onto a lifeline? Would it kill him to realize how good it is if they can become a normality? Would it hurt him like it'd hurted Sehun?

Sehun wants to respond to Kyungsoo, but can't get past the sob stuck in his throat like a fish bone. It hurts to swallow, hurts even more to face the reality.

"Would you listen to me," Kyungsoo continues with his back facing Sehun, "if I tell you he isn't worth it?"

It hurts the most when the answer is no.

This godforsaken mess, whatever it's called, that Sehun has with Jongin is all Sehun's ever had, and all Jongin's ever known. Jongin never says it out loud, but Sehun has learned to read between the lines, although the price he's got to pay to make a cameo appearance in Jongin's biopic is far too high.

Jongin gets used to Sehun saying it would be the last time. Sehun says it like a mantra, a closing line to a script, yet he ends up calling Jongin or showing up at Jongin's place less than a week later. The first few times it happens, there's always something broken — a designer lamp, a vase, a glass, any object within Sehun's reach. As time passes, Jongin pretends like the sound of Sehun's anguish doesn't reach his ears, and Sehun pretends a part of him doesn't wither like petals dropping off and falling to the ground until they are nothing more than a distant memory.

Sehun gets used to telling lies, partly to Jongin and mostly to himself.

"You're slow today," Sehun rasps, slipping his hands down to grasp at Jongin's hips. "What's wrong?"

Jongin closes his eyes at the sound of Sehun's hoarse voice. "Nothing," he shakes his head.

Sehun props himself up on his elbows and kisses Jongin, slow and languid, as if they have all the time in the world.

They don't.

Jongin shifts to wrap his arms around Sehun's torso, crushing their bodies together. Sehun presses his lips to Jongin's neck, thinking he should say something but decides against it. There are so many problems, Jongin looking exhausted like he could break into a million pieces at any time, and Sehun steps out at the last moment, moving away from the walls Jongin'd built around himself, which are ready to crumble at Sehun's words.

Sehun has never cared about celebrity gossip, but Baekhyun's bestfriend works at one of the biggest entertainment news agency. Sehun met Jongdae at an impromptu barbecue dinner at Chanyeol's parents' house last weekend, during which Jongdae let it slip that a power couple would go public soon, and one of them is the nation's first love, supermodel and actor Kim Kai.

Baekhyun had been sobbing, literally, tears seeping through the cotton fabric of Kyungsoo's sweatshirt as he proclaimed his undying admiration for Jongin, his first celebrity crush. Chanyeol'd patted his back, trying to console his drunk boyfriend by saying, _"You have me and Kyungsoo. We're much better than him. We're real."_

Sehun had laughed. Had joined Kyungsoo and Jongdae in teasing Baekhyun about a love that was so far-fetched and unattainable. A delusion.

Sehun knows Jongin is not happy. He can see it in the very tiny bit of a frown behind Jongin's tired smile, in the way he draws blood on Sehun's skin with his nails, a ruthlessness so tender that Sehun feels like he's on the verge of breaking too. Every idol out there is a puppet to some extent, the industry itself is manufactured. Why does anyone care if Jongin is upset? He has to play the game, anyway.

But Sehun cares. Sehun has always cared too much.

He flips their positions, pressing Jongin deeper into the leather sofa. Jongin gasps, trying to catch his breath as Sehun spreads the cold lube over his dick. A moment later, Sehun sinks down, dry and reckless, chest tightening and head thrown back.

"Fuck, Sehunnie," Jongin croaks out when Sehun starts moving, filling himself up with Jongin, the pain subsiding with each wild thrust. Jongin pulls him down, nosing up his jaw and leaving a bite mark on his collarbone as climax sweeps over him. He blindly reaches for Sehun's hand, clammy fingers closing around Sehun's wrist. Sehun shakily strokes himself until his toes curl and his legs spasm.

He collapses onto Jongin's chest, semen sticky on their stomachs and tries not to scream when Jongin tucks his head into the crook of Sehun's neck, leaving a plethora of words that better remain unsaid between them.

"Text me when you get home," Jongin says, out of habit, and Sehun sucks in a breath.

He leaves Jongin a voicemail, telling Jongin that he's back home. He carefully leaves out trivial details, like how he sinks to the hard floor of his dimly lit studio apartment, knees buckling and face wet with uncontrollable tears. His wails echo around the empty walls, the desolate sound that comes from a person who is drained of all hopes.

Jongin doesn't respond to his voicemail. The next time Sehun hears Jongin's voice again is three days later, on an entertainment news broadcast where Jongin appears at a press conference to confirm his relationship with Soojung.

Sehun runs into Kyungsoo in the lobby when he drags himself out of his bedroom to pick up pizza from the delivery guy. He must have looked really bad, because as soon as Kyungsoo invites himself to Sehun's kitchen, he ignores the jar of loose leaf Oolong tea and goes straight for a pack of Cass in Sehun's almost empty fridge.

They drink the night away, talking about random things that don't remind Sehun of his forbidden connection with Jongin. Baekhyun and Chanyeol join them a few hours later when they're back from work. Sehun falls asleep spooning up against Baekhyun, then wakes up to the sight of Baekhyun drooling on his shoulder, and Chanyeol making spaghetti based on a recipe he just downloads from a food blog.

"It will get better," Kyungsoo says softly.

Sehun nods. Even if it will not, he's good at pretending.

**iv. colors and secret languages**

Sehun could never hate Jongin.

How easy his life would have been if he could be angry at Jongin. But how could he get mad at someone who has such a pure heart? On the runway, Jongin has the world at his feet. When he takes off designer clothes and make-up, it seems like giving out love is the only thing he's capable of. He has so much love within him that it makes him unstable and fragile, so he builds iron walls around his heart like a defense. What couldn't hurt him, ends up hurting others. It's a vicious never-ending cycle.

But if it's Jongin, the pain is worth it. Jongin deserves to be treasured, even when he couldn't give Sehun what Sehun deserves.

Kyungsoo once asked Sehun, "Why are you ruining yourself for him?"

Sehun had ignored his question despite the answer lingering at the tip of his tongue. He knows Kyungsoo would not believe him, would never understand if he tells Kyungsoo that it's actually not a one-sided thing. By choosing to sleep with Sehun, Jongin is also ruining himself a million times over and over again.

Soojung might be able to give Jongin the perfect family and the reputation Jongin is expected to live up to, but only Sehun can make him feel alive. When Jongin is with Sehun, he's not Kim Kai, the perfect, picturesque superstar with a glorious career. He's just Jongin, a guy in his mid twenties who's trying to live slower and figure things out as he goes, things that he didn't have the opportunity to experience when he was thrown into showbiz at the age of sixteen, when he just reached puberty and tasted alcohol for the first time. He rises to fame at the cost of a normal youth, and with Sehun, he's able to take back a part of what he'd missed out on, from drinking cheap beer and eating convenient store ramen at two in the morning while watching a movie on HBO, to taking a dog for a leisure walk in the park or using a coin-operated washing machine in the basement to do laundry.

Every time Jongin melts into Sehun, he lights up a fire within. Every time Sehun kisses Jongin, he turns the Kim Kai facade into ashes.

It's self-destructive, their no label, zero commitment so-called relationship. It hurts when they lay side by side in bed, mind wandering from the present to an improbable future, in which secret meetings bleed into casual dates, and eventually, a life together in a cozy house downtown, waking each other up with morning breaths and open-mouthed kisses, baking cupcakes on Sunday afternoons, or even better, raising a dog and naming it after Sehun's favorite anime character. It cuts deep when Sehun sees Jongin's face on the billboard at the train station, flawless and alluring, and his heart clenches at the realization that people would never see the exhausted shade of their favorite's skin, the way he constantly shifts his feet to hide the numbing pain in his back, the ugly fact that sometimes he vomits so hard from stress.

The industry doesn't want something less than perfection.

For Sehun, Jongin isn't perfect. He's too conscious about his intake of food, and can get aggressive when he bends Sehun over. He acts on impulse occassionally, like that time Sehun goes to Jongin's movie premiere and sends him a congratulatory mesage, only to hear incessant knocking on his door at midnight and as he cracks the rusty door open, he is met with an armful of Jongin, who smells like the high-end world he belongs to.

"Shouldn't you be at some party right now," Sehun deadpans.

"I skip it. I don't want to leave you alone," Jongin murmurs into Sehun's shoulder, voice laced with fine whiskey and concern. "It's a horror movie. You're terrified of horror movies."

Sehun told Jongin that once, after Jongin fucked two orgasms out of him. They were looking at each other, breathless, then Jongin rasped out, "That was amazing." Sehun was too tired to even nod, so he stayed quiet until he felt Jongin's gaze prickling on his skin. "What do you want," he'd asked, to which Jongin smiled, "Tell me something about you."

Sehun doesn't think Jongin remember, but Jongin does.

"Not this," Sehun exhales, returning Jongin's hug. "Since you play the main role."

He stops before he falls victim to the infamous Freudian Slip, before he says something that may make Jongin wrench out of his hold and leave. There's no happily ever after, but the warm hands on his skin feel so good, so right, bringing him to a kaleidoscopic high, one that's addictive like a drug. The hollow ache thrumming in his veins only follows later, which Sehun is willing to deal with on his own.

Jongin doesn't let go of Sehun that night, wrapping Sehun in a blanket and in his arms, as if Sehun were made of glasses. In the morning, they eat Sehun's cereal on the couch. Jongin tells Sehun about the guests at the premiere, famous people in the film industry from all over the world. Jongin teaches Sehun to say _I love you_ in Swedish. Sehun repeats in broken accent, and it's not until after Jongin leaves that sickening truth dawns upon him.

_I love you._

It's a sentence that he can't speak with anyone else.

**v. take the road less traveled by**

"What do you hope will happen? You can't keep me hidden in the shadows forever. I will have to leave someday."

It's harsh and cruel, but it's true. Sehun had never thought it'd be him, but recently, as he walks back to his apartment under flickering street lights, the guilt becomes too much, and Sehun thinks about how none of this would have happened if he'd looked away and not stared at Jongin's lips when Jongin's eyes caught his at the wedding reception, if he'd made some typical excuses and told Junmyeon he couldn't attend his wedding.

But deep down, Sehun knows it's inevitable. He could've met Jongin under any other circumstances and would still fall for him.

Jongin's shoulders drop. "I don't know, baby."

"Don't call me baby," Sehun says, hoping Jongin can catch onto the silent _You call her baby_. "It's okay though." He closes his fists so tight he can feel the sweat trapped inside them. "It is what it is."

"No." Jongin lunges forward and takes Sehun's hand in his. "Sehun, please don't do this."

Jongin's expression is calm, even though there's an edge in his voice. "I — I care. Sehun, I really fucking care."

Sehun barks out a humourless laugh. "Glad we finally have one thing in mutual."

"Soojung, she—" Jongin begins. Sehun's heart plummets to his feet. He grabs Jongin by his neck and smashes their mouths together. Jongin doesn't waste any second to push his tongue past Sehun's clenched teeth, gripping Sehun's head firmly as if to keep Sehun from escaping. The kiss is rough, demanding, and for a moment they don't have to care about the world. Sehun hooks his fingers through the loops on Jongin's jeans, so when Jongin moans out his name, he could forget what they're doing here. Could pretend they're living a disgustingly domestic life, like a scene from a chapter never written, a book never opened.

He doesn't want to hear anything other than his own name. That's right, thinks Sehun quietly, trying to work around the humiliation. When he's with Jongin, this is his story. He can write it any way he wants, even with fake memories created to fill the void in his heart.

"Paris is beautiful," Sehun murmurs, rubbing his bloodshot eyes as he peers through the curtains. "And romantic. Just the perfect place for engagement photos."

"I'm not — I'm still here," Jongin whispers back. Sehun laughs and laughs and then stops, because it scares him how good Jongin has become at lying, because he never wants to hear lies from Jongin, not when he's laying beside Sehun, bare skin, chapped lips, messy hair, strands soft and ungelled, making him look younger than his age. Sehun only wants the truth from Jongin, even when the truth will tear him apart, crush his arteries, break him, break him for a lifetime.

His phone vibrates with notifications from the Kakaotalk group chat he has with Baekhyun, Chanyeol and Kyungsoo. Baekhyun is spamming the chat, with all the crying gifs and memes he could find, keyboard smashing and Sehun could imagine Baekhyun at the dining table, whining into his toast as Chanyeol tries to calm him before Kyungsoo loses his patience and kicks both of them out of the house.

_Sehun_ , one particular message reads, _have you seen this???????_

It's a link to the main page of Jongdae's agency. The latest article is titled, _Breaking: Kim Kai Confirmed His Engagement!_

_I know_ , Sehun wants to say, _I know, I know, I know._

**vi. they show their truth one single time**

"What are you most afraid of?"

Jongin hums. "Are you trying to blackmail me?"

"Please, Kim Kai," Sehun snorts, amused. "If I wanted to blackmail you, I'd have done it ages ago."

"You're right," Jongin chuckles, a deep, pleasant rumble sound. His dimple caves, and Sehun tears his gaze away to soothe the frantic pulse in his left chest. "Well, I'm not really afraid of anything."

"Pretty sure you dropped a glass out of fear when the power went out last week," Sehun raises an eyebrow. "That was my favorite glass. I won it in a drinking contest in college."

"Pretty sure it's not something to be proud of," Jongin says. "I already bought you a new set with your initials engraved on each glass."

What Sehun needs can't be bought with money. "Whatever." Sehun waves a hand dismissively. "Don't avoid my question."

Jongin repositions himself so he's laying face to face with Sehun, head propped up by his large, warm hands. "People."

"What?"

"People are the scariest," Jongin mutters. "And perfect people are the worst."

Sehun wonders if this is something Jongin would say when he looks at his reflection in the mirror, bags under his eyes, the corner of his mouth turns upward with forced delight. "Yeah," he murmurs. "Just don't be afraid of me."

"I won't," Jongin declares, a small (small, but real) smile dancing across his lips.

There's this one time when Sehun goes to see Jongin during his lunch break. They don't have much time, so Sehun yanks down Jongin's expensive pants and lets Jongin bury himself in the depth of his mouth to climax. When Jongin's breathing becomes normal, he brings Sehun closer and presses a gentle kiss to his forehead.

It's the little things that mean the most. A peck on Sehun's nose. A carton of Sehun's favorite milk. A stack of Chinese restaurant flyers after Sehun mentioned how much he was in love with crab dumplings. A pair of socks Jongin secretly put in Sehun's bag, knowing Sehun sometimes has cold feet during the night. A glance over his shoulder, not the way he did in that Calvin Klein commercial with seven million views on YouTube, but softer, cuter, as he tries to make sure Sehun is still behind him every time they make a trip to the convenient store or any street food stall. A late night conversation about current music trends, in which Jongin never forgets to tell Sehun how smart he is. _Your brain is the sexiest thing about you_ , Jongin'd whispered into his ear, and Sehun fought to keep the fondness out of his face when he leaned back against Jongin's bare chest, tucking his head beneath Jongin's chin.

It's the little things that hurt the most. The mention of Jongin's engagement to Soojung almost everywhere. _They look so good together_ , they say. _Is this an act?_ They ask. Media outlets dig up what they call _hints_ from a thousand years ago. They both posted a picture of a river on this day and a flower on that day. Vogue photoshoot, his heavy make-up eyes lingered on her silhouette for too long. Armani opening event, they were spotted wearing the same brand of necklace. A chilly September night out by the Han River, at two different times, but both were wearing a lilac sweater. The young fangirls sitting at the coffee shop near Sehun's office speculate about the romance they've never thought about before. _He's so brave_ , they conclude, _for choosing his happiness, for protecting the woman he loves._

No one would ever know that while Soojung's lilac sweater is Givenchy, Jongin's is bought from a thrift shop, given to him by Sehun, who accidentally drops a mug of hot chocolate onto Jongin's two thousand dollars fine silk shirt as he tries to wake him up with breakfast in bed.

Sehun picks up his usual coffee and leaves. At the crossroad, he looks up and finds Jongin's smirking face plastered over billboards for luxury fragrances.

He marvels at the irony.

**vii.**

Sehun’s fingers only tremble the slightest bit as he fastens the buttons of his shirt.

"Go back to bed, Jongin," Sehun says, testing the name on his tongue. It's still sweet and addictive. "You have a long day tomorrow."

Jongin crosses the distance between them, strong arms encircling Sehun's waist. A pain burns through him, a desire to reach through the invisible wall separating them and make himself a home in Jongin's embrace and never let go. There are holes in Sehun only Jongin could fix.

"Sehun," Jongin says, and kisses him. Their lips fall together like north and south poles of a magnet. Jongin kisses him like he'd never kissed anyone before, like he wants — needs — to seek for salvation from this particular touch. The hollowness that has been left inside Sehun resurfaces with sweet anxiety and sugary abandonment until Jongin's phone rings, the familiar ringtone reverberating loudly in Sehun's ears, replacing the fluttery emotions with bitter reality.

Jongin doesn't pick up. A heartbeat later, the automatic voicemail plays Soojung's message.

"I know you don't give a shit." Her voice is cold, elegant. "But we both agree on this. _You_ agree on this, so fix yourself and show up to your engagement party tomorrow."

When Sehun laughs, his tone is even, tranquil, everything that Jongin's expression is not. "She's interesting," he says. "Tomorrow is going to be fun."

Jongin smoothes the stray hairs from Sehun's face and rests his hand against freckled skin. "Let me know when you get home." He mumbles hoarsely. "I will see you soon."

Sehun swallows. "Yeah."

Any time could be the last time now. Sehun understands. Jongin has a heart of gold. He is too kind to deliberately hurt somebody. That’s probably why Sehun falls for him. The only fault Jongin has, is his kindness.

When Jongin makes a vow to his future bride, when he promises to love her without reservation or conditions, to always do his best to give more than he takes and not keep score, it will be the end of him and Sehun. The remnants of their hidden affair will evaporate. It would be best for Jongin to forget Sehun, to leave any trace of the tall, pale guy out of his perfect picture future.

But Sehun can't help but wish that he won't. Sehun doesn't want the memories of him to haunt Jongin like a ghost, maybe just a thought that crosses Jongin's mind at night. When he drives past the crowded streets of Myeongdong, he will remember Sehun's content smile in the afterglow. When he drinks vintage champagne at his wedding, he will remember the ugly looking dalgona coffee Sehun once made for him.

He will wonder what Sehun is doing, whether Sehun still misses him.

And that'd be enough.

"It's unfair," Kyungsoo sighs as he watches Sehun scroll through every major media outlet, drinking in the sight of Jongin, handsome and svelte in a customized tuxedo. "How you're here alone in your apartment, and he—"

Sehun gently cuts off Kyungsoo before he can venture further. "We're different," he says. "The world doesn't turn to hell just because I perform less than absolutely perfect on any given time."

"You're only human," Kyungsoo winces, shaking the tumbler in his hand. "What would you do if he calls you? He has a fiancée now."

A soccer game is playing out on the TV, raucous noise and hushed speech. Sehun watches Kyungsoo down his glass in one go. A half-empty bottle of vodka is sitting quietly on the wooden table, just what usually happens during breakdowns.

"What would you think he'd have said," Sehun counters with another question. "If I'd told him I was in love with him?"

Kyungsoo exhales. Then he looks at Sehun dead in the eyes, and Sehun knows Kyungsoo could already guess Jongin's answer, but.

_(it would've been fun, if it could've been him.)_

**Author's Note:**

> ...sehun baby, i'm sorry :( 
> 
> [ Twitter ](https://twitter.com/forsekais)


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